Soul of Sorrows
by Alaina Ruth
Summary: He had never been shown kindness, love, nor compassion. All his life he had only known the cruelty of the world and its darkness. Years of torture led him to believe angels were just a myth, but now he's not so sure, for his cry has been heard. EC
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the books, musical, or the movie of Phantom of the Opera; they rightfully belong to their soul owners, what a pity.

**Author's Note**: I'm revising this with my new beta, so yeah. I also want to thank all who have reviewed my stories, you have no idea how much that means. I think I have replied to all, not for sure, but I do reply to reviews with the little reply button, so if you review, I in return will reply and maybe read and review your stories if you have any. But once again thank you to those who have, it means the world to me! Well enough of that onto the story!

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Pain.

Agonizing…horrible pain that was all he felt.

The cold wind did not sooth his aching wounds either; he shivered as it brushed against his bare, blood-covered chest. The cold was nothing new to him, so he welcomed it in like always. It let him know he was still alive, and for that he thanked the night's song as it played its sad tune.

He groaned as he tried to lift his head a little to see the black rusty bars that were crusted with blood…his blood. They blocked his only way to freedom from thehorrid place. He placed his eyes on the door, wishing it would open with just a word of hope, or a prayer But no, only man's key could open the blasted cage. Another burst of cold wind came rushing in, bringing him back to the land of the living.

Every inch of his body was on fire, burning with hatred, almost as if death was waiting.

If only he hadn't moved, he wouldn't have disturbed the nasty infections that taunted him as he looked down at his body. Pieces of flesh hung loose painted with his red liquid, as it dripped downwards. Bone was visible, peeking out of his tortured form. Old wounds had reopened causing more infections to indulge to greater lengths. Rivers of blood flowed along his tattered body, washing him of his sins, yet replacing them as a reminder of who he was. His cold fingers hung limply as his body did, obeying the ways of the wind, his feet dangling just above the straw covered cage bottom. He was covered with dried and new blood. The smell was overwhelming and powerful; he was surprised he had not yet fell unconscious because of it. If only he could. Then he would be free for a moments breath, then return to reality. But fate was being cruel.

He was stiff and to move was a temptation, but he couldn't, not without disturbing his reason for trying to stay still and calm. The angry wounds mocked him as his eyes made contact with them yet again while he watched as the red liquid flowed to freedom to the ground below.

His eyes filled with tears as he triedin vain to push the events that had happened earlier that day away But no matter how hard he fought, they always somehow managed to break through the barriers of his mind.But he was saved from the past for a blind moment, as yet another cold rush of wind made itself known to him. His eyes snapped open and he sought for his comfort**-- **his sack, his shield, his mask. He realized his face was bare,and his one comfort of hiding his curse from the cruel world lay at his shackled feet in the bloody straw. He had the sudden urge to cover his monstrous, disgusting disfigurement, but couldn't for his arms and legs were chained and bound to the center of the barred cage they had forced him in. So he hid his face in the crook of his shoulder as well as he could, not caring of the discomfort he felt. He had no _needed_ to hide, to be protected from the evil that lay outside just a couple of yards away.

He let out a distraught cry as his numb arms dangled high above his head, forcing him to arch his back and tear open the wounds that had been healing for a couple of days ago. He gave up and just hung there, not caring as blood seeped from the infections on his back he just didn't care anymore. He was nothing but a freak for these cruel, merciless, greedy beings who called themselves humans. He was nothing but a way to gain money for them. He was their freak showand forever would be.

He remembered how every day of his life the gypsies gained their share of greed as they beat upon his broken form in front of thecrowds that drew near enough to watch, but remained far enough awayso as not to be in harm's pathor to have blood stain their precious clothing. They laughed at himand poked his bleeding form with anything sharp they could find, if only to bring him more pain, for it was their pleasure.

Once his so called master threw him out into the crowd and laughed while watching as they brought on more wounds to his already tortured body. Kicking, punching, hitting, spitting, and any other harm that they could do to his beaten down form, they did. His pain was their laugher.

He could no longer take it and, just as his eyes had shut, thought that his sweet prayers had answered him that death was waiting there on the top of those stairsleading to heaven or hell ,holding out his hands for him to take. But before he could, he had been jolted back into the world of the livingas his wounds told him in great agony that he was covered in his own blood. Sores had been scattered everywhere and the cold wind did not help that fact much. The memory came back, as it finished its agonizing story. He could do nothing as it played once more.

As his master waited for the crowd to disperse away, he finally came and roughly picked him up by the hair, and dragged him back to his home….the cage.

Laughing with his sick greed, he not-so-tenderlychained him back into his standing position atthe center of the cage, not caring to treat his wounds, which he never did. So the pain stayed and mocked him at any movement he made. No matter how hard he tried to be still and prevent making his infections angrier, he just bore the pain, not caring that fire was burning in them, not caring for the blood that ran over his scarred body, not caring for now that his heart had turned cold with ice making the walls of hatred from years before build a stronger barrier than ever. He would never give his heart out to anyone again. How foolish he had been to think his mother had ever cared or even loved him when the witch only had plans to sell him to these wretched people. A cruel mother and a dead father he never knew-- the family he never had.Nowhe was a freak for the rest of his bounded and scarred life forever.

He never cried. But tonight he had to**--** but only for tonight. Tomorrow there would be no more tears to cry. He would go through with the cruel beatings and laughteras he had every day for the past 10 years that he had beenenslaved to these merciless people. Nothing ever changed, so he no longer hoped.

Not once had he been shown any sort of kindness or any of the such? He had always wondered and dreamt what it felt like to be loved, to be held tenderly by tight hands that never let the darkness take over and would never let him be alone for the rest of his days as he was every night. Loneliness always made itself at home in his heart and soul, happy to make him feel worse than he already was. In a sense 'Loneliness' had somehow become his only true friend.

He took a breath as the memory faded away, yet it stilltaunted him that it would be back as another round was to happen tomorrow. He just hoped his wounds could heal before more torture would be placed upon his scarred and bloody form.

He winced again as his body reminded him,once more, of his current position. Brushing it off, he thought of how he remembered a friend of hisfrom before he was sold to these people, that anytime he was in a place or situation that did not bring him happiness, he could pray for an Angel to come and protect him.

He snorted at the thought. So far nothing had happened. He was still chained and forced to over come the pain as the whip met his body in blood calling lust. Of course he had never prayed. What good would it do to start now? He knew not to believe such things, for his past 10 years, nothing good had ever been done to him, nothing whatsoever.

He laughed as he realized there was really no reason to live. He closed his eyes once more and thought of a plan that would end his life. It would be painful, but maybe before he went through with it, he would pray once and see what happened afterwards. He had no hopesthat it would work, so he didn't get high on hope. Faith had long ago left him; they parted ways years and years ago when he had earned his first whip lashes.

He sighed and bowed his head down and silently mumbled a couple of words in prayer. He breathed and opened his eyes.

He heard a sound like someone was whispering. It came again and for one moment, he thought he saw clothing at the bottom outside of his cage. He looked up and his eyes widen to the size of saucers. His breathing ceased.

A pair of gentle brown eyes gazed into his.

Before he could fall to the hands of unconsciousness, he saw those eyes filled with something he had longed to see...compassion.

Well maybe there were such things called Angels that were not just made up of myths. Maybe this Angel would be his end or the beginning of a new life. But whatever the case this angel had come**--**and only for him. He had yet to find out what meaning he had in life, but he was about to know within the next coming of dawn.

She looked up at the sleeping man and smiled. He would know what it was like to be loved and he would be shown compassion.As she took one last look behind her she walked away and left him to sleep--promising himwithout words that she would come back--but knowing one thing above all--

Her daughter would be his salvation.

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Well there's the prologue! Hoped you guys enjoyed it! So please review, I would very much appreciate it! Thank you!

God Bless

Alaina Ruth


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I do not own books, musical, or the movie of Phantom of the Opera, wish I did though.

**Author's Note**: Here's Chapter One, hope you enjoy it! Please do review! It really does inspire the writer. I want to thank all of my reviewers and readers, you guys are wonderful! Thank you all, and please forgive my last AN's, they were a bit out of control. I thank my beta, Siren of the Rose, for editing this for me, that means a lot! Now onto Chapter One!

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The cage door slammed open and brought life into the sleeping man. He slowly opened his eyes up, and looked around. It was still dark for the sun had not yet begun to rise. He closed his eyes once more, but that was a mistake. He had been too tired to realize that his cage door had opened. The force did wake him, but he couldn't find the strength to glance at the source. He already knew what awaited him this day. _His death._ He would die today. He didn't wish to live another second of this miserable life style, like he had for the past decade. He needed to end it as soon as possible, _he wanted freedom - he wanted death._ Oh how sweet that word rolled off his tongue like water. It felt so serene and beautiful, but as usual his dreams never lasted long.

He was roughly thrown to the ground, finally free of the wretched chains, but not from the bastard of Hell. He rolled over, refusing to open his eyes. His right hand covered his disfigurement. Gustavio laughed as he kicked Erik in the stomach earning a grunt in response, but nothing else. He frowned.

Erik laid his head down and stilled. This was a routine that they went through every morning, for Gustavio to beat him senseless so he would be all bloody and bruised for the coming morning crowd and the next three after that. They always liked their freak dressed in hanging flesh and blood covered. It paid more, and plus he still got more abuse during the show and afterwards. He wondered if he was to count all his scars, if he wouldn't lose track of them. He tried once, but gave up, but at the moment it had been entertaining.

He was pulled back to reality as another kick came from behind and punctured his gashed rib side, drawing the clotted blood to run again. He cursed so as not to let Gustavio hear, or he would be encouraged all the more to keep up his activity.

He didn't dare look up into those eyes; they would just mock him and continue on. As another round of kicks made score with every bruise, cut, and gash, he still kept silent, he would not give in. He wouldn't give him the pleasure of his pain; he had learned to somehow keep it in. Well apparently Gustavio was in a mood for some more exciting torture. He had a drink this morning, which meant more abuse for the freak. Although Erik did thank the wife for sometimes she would come out and stop Gustavio and give him some bread from the early morning meal, but that was very rare, she never really cared much for him, and as she did for that child of theirs. Oh, how that child drove him to insanity, every chance he got, he did everything his father did, but the little brat was still asleep thank goodness.

He inhaled quickly as he was forced to stand. He opened his eyes. He shouldn't have done that. He saw a fist coming towards him at full speed, promising to leave a dark bruise behind. He quickly shut them, and the impact came. It threw him to the ground, and rounds of more punches came after. He tried to look up, but he could barely open his eyes. He then realized it was quiet, too quiet. He began to shake, he knew what was going to happen next, but _it was too early for that!_ His eyes begun to sting, _no he wouldn't cry! _Not yet. He heard the big man slowly walk from his shed, whistling a horribly off tuned song. That just made the fear rise up into his throat, oh how he hated this part.

Fear got the best of him. He jumped up and tried to make a run for it, but was too slow. His master was a big man and much faster than Erik, for that he caught him easily.

"Well now did ja think you could escape me so easily? Hmm?" He laughed out loud as he heard the whip crack in the open air, telling it's wicked story. He twisted wildly in his grasp but to no avail. Before he knew it, he was bound to a post, with his hands and feet tied tightly to the stake, him facing the post. He bit his lip as he heard it crack again. He was warming up, trying to indulge more fear into the poor boy; that was his job. Erik tried so hard not to cry out, when the leather whip met his torn flesh. He might have been able to stop himself from crying at night, but to not scream as the lashes of fire that came for hours on end to his wounded back, he could not hold in.

He screamed out all his pain for the past years. He screamed as he thought of how he would never be loved. He screamed for the loneliness that was only brought to him. He screamed for the angel that left him, and never came back. He screamed till he could no more. He screamed for death.

He felt the ropes come undone, as he fell to the ground exhausted. If he thought yesterday was bad, today was much worse. Pain was everywhere, he couldn't move. He just laid there. He knew one more thing was to happen before he was able to follow out with his plan, but he shook as he knew what was to happen next, the worst of the worst.

_Fire._

He began to sob; he hated it when this happened. He clenched his fists and brought them under his chin, hoping to warm his numb body.

"Well boy it's _time._ Now get up."

Erik didn't get up.

"I said _get up!"_ Erik shook his head; he wouldn't do it.

Gustavio stomped over to where the boy laid, and roughly took him by the hair. He yelped, but didn't open his eyes.

"I said get up boy, and you didn't, for that you _will be punished greatly!"_ He growled out through clenched teeth.

He threw Erik to the stake post, and he made a run for it, but before Gustavio had a chance to catch him, the cage did.

Erik had been blindly running, not caring what he ran into. He couldn't see, but he had forgotten about the cage. He had accidentally run into his trapped cage. Before he could turn around and get out, Gustavio had jumped to the entrance first and slammed it shut. He shivered as he heard him chuckling quietly to himself. He had had too much to drink and whatever he did, he didn't know of.

He began to laugh out loud.

"Well boy I guess you finally are going to learn what real torture is." He smiled wickedly. He held up the burning torch and motioned down to where Erik stood.

Erik looked down and saw straw. He didn't quite get it. Till he realized just exactly what Gustavio was going to do. He shook with fear and before he could shut his mouth, he let the words out.

"You can't do that! I'll die!" He desperately said, but the man just laughed. He was going to kill him; he was going to burn him alive! He backed away, as he slowly lowered the torch down to the blood covered straw. He smiled and waved.

"Well boy, it was nice knowing you." He laughed out loud again and began to unbuckle the cage from the house. The fire caught the first straw that came near it as the wind blew passed him, encouraging the fire to grow. He let the wagon roll to the other side and watched it as the fire burned with hunger. He went back inside, only to be greeted by his enraged wife, but he just slapped her and made his way to bed. He knew the boy would die, but it was time he got a new freak anyway. He was getting less and less money. Erik was getting older, and stronger. That was not good, so he planned to end the boy's life. He knew nobody would save him…or so he thought.

Erikbacked away, as the hungry flames devoured the straw in front of him. They licked at his feet, and he jumped up, and started to scream for help.

"Somebody help me! Please! Anybody, if you're there, please come and help me! Please, I beg of you!" He stretched out his hands and reached out in between the bars, and clawed at the open air, hoping to grab freedom.

With all of his strength he finally cried out his last word as the fire caught his body.

"ANGEL!"

Then all went black.

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She ran.

She had to get away. She couldn't be caught.

She found a place that was called "The Devil's Child." She didn't think much of it, so she hid in the brush and fell asleep.

She had woken up to the sound of screaming. She looked around but did not find the source, and it frightened her. The sound was painful, and she couldn't take it, so she ran. While she was running, Christine was being followed. She dropped down to her knees to rest then started back up again. Her locks flew in the wind as she passed by many trees, not caring as twists dug into her flesh, destroying her flawless skin.

As she stopped to rest again, her delicate ears heard a voice. The same voice from last night. Fear came and she darted towards the darkness, but a hand caught her.

"No, let me go! I didn't mean to, I really didn't!" She whimpered, but the hand held tight.

It whispered again.

She looked up, but could not see the figure clearly.

"What?" She asked confused.

"He needs you. Go save his soul, before it's too late." The voice said again.

"Save who? Who can I save, I can save no one!" Her eyes glanced around, and still could not find the owner of the voice. The hand had let go, but the voice had not left.

"He needs you, he will die, go save him, before it's too late."

"Save who?" Her worried eyes finally caught sight of the figure. As she stepped closer, she came to realize just exactly who it was.

The blond hair and soft brown eyes gazed down at the brunette.

Shocked beyond believe, she found her voice.

"Mother?" Before she could say another word, she silenced the girl.

"Go save him, Christine." With that, the angel disappeared into the darkness.

"Save who, momma, save whom?" She then remembered the sign and the screams.

Then it clicked.

_The Devil's Child._

With every burst of energy she ran to her destination, hoping for faith to be her one companion.

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He couldn't breathe, the fire licked his skin, it was raging now, and he had already been burned severely. He lay down in the fire, and screamed till he could no more. He closed his eyes, death was waiting. Just a little bit more, and he would be free.

She smelled smoke. She saw the cage and she heard the screams. She couldn't believe at what was happening. With a new energy she never thought she had, Christine ran to the pump and got a bucket of water. She went towards the burning cage, and poured the cool water over the raging fire, but it did little to help. She seen something…someone was in there! She hurried, hoping it whoever it was, would make it.

She gasped.

She had little time. She hoped it was not too late!

After several attempts to slow the angry fire, she finally succeeded.

He looked up and saw rain. It was raining? He was too sore to move. So he just enjoyed the way it felt against his burnt skin. Then without warning a flood of water came through the bars, he coughed and saw that the fire was dying, but he couldn't move. He looked down. He had been burned severely, but was still alive. He wondered if Gustavio had finally realized what he had done.

He turned his head, and forgot to breathe.

She threw the bucket to the side, and looked through the bars. She saw him; he was still alive, but badly burned. She was crying for him. He was covered with burns and what looked to be whip lashes. Gashes and bruises were everywhere. What had happened to this poor man?

"Good mercy, who did this to you! How can I get you out of here? I need to tend to your wounds; do you know where the key is?" She pleaded for him to answer. He just seemed content to just stare at her with wide eyes, then within a flash he covered the right side of his face, for a moment he had forgotten just exactly what he was. She had not seen it, but she thought it was a burn of some sort. He rolled over and backed away, ignoring the burning sensation, still staring at her with wide eyes.

He began to shake, she noticed. So she took the matters in her own hands. She looked around for something to break open the door of the cage with. She found a hammer and began to tear it apart. Finally after half an hour it came loose.

"Come here and take my hand, I'm going to help you." She held her hand out, but he did not take it.

She looked at him and realized he was in no condition to move. She now had a clearer view of him, his hand still protecting the right side of his face. She climbed in and took hold of his arm gently.

"Please, we must go before someone finds you are gone." She pleaded once more. He finally came out of his trance, and she helped him to stand. It took a couple of minutes for him to get to the steps of the cage, for he was leaning on her, ruining her dress and cloak. After they got passed the lot and to the edge of the forest, they stopped.

"Here, put this on, and keep leaning on me. When we get to a rest stop I will tend to your wounds, okay. So please stay awake, I cannot carry you." She handed him her cloak, and carefully put it on him, careful as to not disturb his wounds. The sight was sickening to look at, and she knew she needed to get him patched up before they got really infected.

They walked for another hour and then stopped. He turned around and he let his first words to her slip out.

"Who are you and why did you save me?" His questioning gaze moved her, and she lowered her eyes. He was still leaning on her, for such a small girl, she had the strength to half carry a wounded man. Amazing.

"I was told by an angel to save you. I saw you a couple of nights ago, but I could do nothing. This morning I heard your screams. I'm so sorry I wish I could have prevented what has happened." Without warning she hugged him.

What he did next surprised her beyond shock.

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Well there's chapter one. I hope you enjoyed it! Please review! And thanks to my beta! Chapter two should be out soon, so watch out for that installment!

God Bless

Alaina Ruth


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the books, musical or the movie of Phantom of the Opera.

**Author's Note**: Here's the second chapter, hope you enjoy. And please do review; I would appreciate it very much if you did. Thank you. I want to thank all of my reviewers and readers! You guys mean the world to me! Thanks for everything! Love you all! Okay onto the story. This chapter does contain adult situations, sort of? So if you're uncomfortable with the idea, then please do not read. I do not like to offend people. Well anyways I want to thank my beta for editing this! It means much to me.

The touch of her angel soft skin against his jolted him back into reality. Something so pure should not have been allowed to have contact with his tainted and scarred soul. He was a freak of nature, a monster. He jerked so suddenly she had lost her balance and went forward. Before she could hit the ground, he caught her. The weight on his arms brought a screaming pain to his still bleeding injuries. He tried not to scream out but the pain was too intense. He let her go and she fell.

He backed away; suddenly afraid of her as if she was one of them. Pain was everywhere. He could taste the metallic red liquid in his dry mouth. The thoughts of early turned on his tattered mind. Frightened like a small child, he limped away as fast as possible. No matter where he turned the pain followed and mocked him. They left evidence behind. His demons would eat him alive.

Crying and frightened, he didn't care as the rain fell and bathed him, he had to get away. Thunder and lightening clashed. In the distance he could hear someone calling him. Maybe it was one of his old captors from all those years ago. He didn't know, but he wasn't going back. He kept onward. The girl a couple of moments ago had been forgotten in his jumbled mind. It wasn't until he felt two small arms embrace him from behind, did he remember. The dainty hands caressed the delicate skin of his abdomen. Soft warm tears trickled down his back, mingling with the falling rain. So much feel, so much of something he could not find words to describe.

He didn't know who it was. Who would hug a monster? Then the girl reappeared into his fog-bitten mind. He turned around and a small replica of the angel from the other night stood before him. She was different it seemed, but at the same time they almost alike.

Glossy brown eyes glanced up at his and locked.

His breath caught in his throat, his heart clenched, his blood flowed with warmth, and his stomach fluttered from the emotions that absorbed him in from those brown orbs.

Compassion.

It was there, and it was directed at him. His soul drank it in and his blood continued to sing. Tears flowed and became one with the rain as did hers.

So many words were spoken in the depths of her eyes, but did not have to be said.

Tear-stained face, she still smiled. She smiled for him. Her arms still attached to his waist. She laid her head against his good shoulder. Not knowing what to do, he half draped his arms around her. It was only when he bent forward that the infections of his injuries decided to cease the moment of an unknown happiness that had sparked him to life. He cursed for the ruined moment.

Clutching his side, he winched. This did not go unnoticed by his brunette haired angel.

"Your wounds! Let's get you to shelter so I can dress your injuries before they get more infected. Why didn't you remind me sooner?" She pulled on one of his arms, trying not to disturb the angry infections that covered themselves with his crusted blood. The wetness touched her hand. He was still bleeding.

He leaned on her for support as they made their way to the little hut that was not too far off into the distance.

Limping, they finally reached the door. It looked abandon. She had the aid bag; her mother had given her when she went to go save the devil's child. She still didn't know his name.

She opened the door and they both stepped inside. It was dark and dusty. It looked as though no one had touched it for decades. Maybe they would be safe for a little while. They couldn't stay here, she knew. His so called master would probably realize his freak hadn't died, but escaped. She just hoped now that they were a couple of hours away, he wouldn't come searching for this man that she intended to take care of, even if it killed her. So many scars, so many wounds, so many thoughts flew into her head. What had this man gone through?

She sat him down, carefully, into an arm chair and went in search of a bed. The hut had only one bedroom, a kitchen, and the sitting room where the man was and that was it. She came back and saw that he was trying to stand. Rushed over to him, Christine pushed him back down into the chair.

"Don't get up! You're hurt. I found a bed for you. We'll try and get you there in one piece, but don't try and get up by yourself, okay?" He just gave her a look.

Apparently even after all that torture he still had his pride. Having help from a woman must have damaged his male pride a bit; well she could have cared less.

She helped him to the bed. There was a little narrow hallway and it was difficult for both of them to fit. She got behind him, supporting his upper arms and walked the rest of the way to the dark room.

It was cold, very cold, and it was still storming outside. She would have to go get some wood and start a fire but first she needed to tend to this man. She felt bad for putting it off for so long. She just hoped that he would be better after she finished, hopefully by morning.

She gently laid him on the bed. Now as she looked down at the wounded man and observed she realized he had severe burns, whip lashes, and various gashes and cuts along with nasty bruises scattered everywhere on his tattered body. As her eyes traveled up to his face, she gasped.

She hadn't noticed but just as surprise came upon her angelic face, he knew. He quickly shot his hand up to protect the right side of his face. All this time he had forgotten about it. He cursed himself.

"No….no, don't do that. It's okay, I won't hurt you, I promise. Don't hide from me, its okay." She soothed him, gently brushing his hair back away from his face with her fingers. The feel of their softness sent chills down his spine and sprang him to life. It felt so good. Then she stopped. He frowned. He saw her look down at him. The fire had burnt him severely. His trousers, well more like rags that covered his legs, or did, were almost gone.

"I'll need you to undress, so I can tend to everything, okay? Even scars from the past. Everything needs a touch of healing." She got up and went to the door, then turned around, her questioning gaze rested upon him.

"You…don't need help…do you?" She had never undressed a man before. He grumbled and reached for his trousers. He got them unbuttoned but couldn't pull them off. He didn't realize she was still in the room. His hand went back to his face.

"It's okay…I'll help you."

He didn't like the idea of a woman undressing him, no less touching him in certain places. It didn't seem right.

Her small dainty fingers found the top of his pants and she slowly slid them off, carefully so as not to disturb his injured legs. She didn't look but Christine knew he wasn't wearing anything underneath.

Now completely naked in from her, an angel, he couldn't decide what he wanted to hide the most; his face or downstairs. He groaned; decisions like these made him feel helpless. She fixed that problem quickly. He didn't have any scars downstairs; he knew, so when she asked he shook his head no. She had found a cloth and placed it over his male part, thankful he could hide himself from her wondering eyes, somewhat.

She went back out and came back a couple of minutes later with a bowl of steaming water and her needed supplies.

She had somehow convinced him not to cover his face for she didn't care which, he felt amazed by, but still a bit uncomfortable.

While she cleansed his wounds, iced his bruises, stitched his injuries, put salve on his aches, dressed and bandaged all his infections, he had watched her the entire time. Never once did she flinch. Her eyes held determination as she battled with his wounds and worked hard to heal them. Never had he seen such a woman, but she had to be just like the rest, angels didn't exist.

The way her fingers would gently brush against his skin or how they tended to his burns excited him. Feelings of something unknown, coursed through his raging body. Warmth started too built up everywhere her touch lingered. It was only when she was done did she notice his state. She gasped and tried to look away.

The cloth hardly covered him now. He groaned again as she got up quickly, the sign she was leaving him in this new found agony.

"Is there anything else you need? I'm going to go find some wood and start a fire. Are you hungry? I can make something for you if you wish?" Her eyes were downcast. She gently pulled the covers up to his waist so she wouldn't have to see something that was not meant to be seen. He needed his privacy.

"Yes." He croaked out. He was hungry but didn't like the idea of her going out into that storm. She could get lost or worse get hurt and it would be his fault. Before she could leave he grasped her arm. She turned around and gave him a confused look.

"Don't go out into the storm. Don't leave me." He pleaded.

She smiled at him and touched his arm.

"Okay, I won't, but we'll need to find some sort of warmth, or we'll both get sick. I'll go fix you something to eat, okay?" He gave her a look. He wasn't convinced.

"I promise…I won't leave."

He nodded and let her hand go. He watched her walk away from him. That feeling arose again and he gritted his teeth. He did not like this. He wished she would hurry. If warmth was her concern he could keep her from the cold, that would not be a problem.

She went into the kitchen and began to hunt for food. For an abandon hut, whoever had lived here before was kind enough to leave some food.

She found some bread and a few vegetables. They would have to work for the time being. They both were a bit moldy. Tomorrow she would go out and find them something else better to starve their hunger. She wondered when the last time he had eaten. He was terribly thin and deathly pale, which did not help that matter, nor did those wounds and old scars from a past she had yet to find out about. She felt sorry for him and had the urge to just hold and comfort the man till all of his demons and pain faded into a past forgotten.

Bread and vegetables in hand, she went back to the bedroom.

He turned his head when he heard footsteps coming down the hall. She walked in with some food. She handed it to his awaiting palms. He gave her another look.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine, you just eat. Do you need some help?" She wanted to throttle him. He should be more focused on himself then her. She was a little hungry but she could manage.

He shook his head and slowly began to eat his fill. He would save her some. He knew she was hungry. He was amazed at the kindness she had shown him. He wanted so bad to believe that he had died and gone to heaven. He must have, because this couldn't be real it had to be fake. Angels didn't want anything to do with disfigured freaks of nature, it was unheard of, a story never told.

She watched him eat and think. He looked so adorable; she just wanted to hug him.

"Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Christine Daae, but you can call me Christine, if you want." He nodded.

"I'm known as Erik." They said nothing afterwards, silence filled the quiet room.

After he finished she took his plate and went back into the kitchen and placed it in the tub. She went back and a piece of bread was thrust into her face. She gave a surprised look. He had saved her some? He was so kind even after all he had been through. She refused but he kept on insisting. She finally took it but only ate half. She fed him the rest though he resisted. He frowned as she went to leave once more. He had seen her shiver.

"Where are you going to sleep?" He asked. He wouldn't allow her to sleep out in the sitting area, it was too cold there, he knew.

"I…I was going to sleep in the sitting room."

"No, sleep here….with me. You'll get sick from the cold." She protested but he reached out and grabbed her, before she could leave. He pulled her down and got her under the covers. He wrapped his arms around her preventing any forms of escape, once again ignoring how they burned at the sudden movement, at the moment, he could have cared less; he had an angel in his arms.

She sighed and rolled over to face him and cuddled closer to his warm body. She didn't have a choice. She had even protested because of his wounds but he would have none of it. He would not allow her to sleep out there. The warmth he provided lulled her to sleep. Unknowest to Christine a pair of smoky emerald eyes watched her throughout the night as she fell into the hands of unconsciousness, promising without knowing, a future that was meant to be.

So did you guys like it, love it, or hate it? Tell me. Please don't forget to review! Thanks!

God Bless

Alaina Ruth


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